


A Study in Happiness

by korik



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: M/M, NSFW, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korik/pseuds/korik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A semi-abandoned shameless smut/fluff oneshot that I should probably finish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Happiness

"Mi’lord, are you unwell? You are trembling."

The crushed velvet laugh tickled the frost white ends of the delicate hairs that were spread sparsely over his bronze toned frame. The Judge Magister, still new to the title, reflexively scratched at his nose, blonde brows crinkling inwards to shadow the modestly intimate blue eyes beneath.

The pale, diamond blue eyes in turn were sad despite despite the heated, assuring warmth of his bedmate. As the man spoke, rough, worn hands, only just made soft by the aged sandalwood, crisp lemon and fresh cinnamon oil that was buried into the cracks and o’er the raised scars that decorated them, lifted, fingers collectively seeking out the bumps and lines that melded together to form Gabranth’s peerless features. “Unbidden dreams from a younger man’s folly - sigh not, Gabranth - " the still half-asleep Vayne nearly laughed again - " - and gaze not on me so - "

"You cannot still my thoughts, lord; while the Emperor is a wise man, he, too, has committed acts worthy of a lesser man with only a scrap to his name."

The younger restrained an urge to shove the elder away, lips pursing in astonishment and bemused ire. “And the Emperor is my father, a Solidor besides - "

"Stubborn as one, you mean - "

"And as your lord, servant - "

" - as I am Archadian, I must agree to the will of the civil servant - "

The rising tones of the two men seemed perhaps too playful for their alluded content, the secret trespasses and trysts of bravado mocking but all too affectionate as they sought not t be separate but to be joined, their words only a mask, gilded in festive lights fabricated from a very dense material.

For all their heathen chatter, the two pressed their lips together, sealed unto silence that was more than an absentminded salute to the way those honest farmboys and homegrown soldiers committed themselves to the simpler things (something, as Vayne would admit to, a monk had yet to understand).

Their yearning so great, they wound themselves together, legs between legs, calf muscles tensed in anticipation, tensed to aid in their long, drawn out explorations over familiar territory made new by darkness and sputtering candlelight. Made sincere and ceremoniously reserved as new brands from their business were laid to fresh scrutiny by a lover’s roving, calloused digit or practiced blue glass gaze. At times, this was even punctuated by a startled yelp and an entreaty for mercy.

Gabranth could not help but tease, purring a silky coo whenever the tangled mess of dark hair kissing at his shoulders, neck and face dragged themselves away as their owner’s lips made fire where they were silently bidden, his own mouth curling to breathless delights.

They both needed the touch, feeling the intense spike, the pangs of wants so oft pushed aside in the heartless eyes of the hedonistic courts flare to heights some spoke of in hushed tones, consorting with rejected bedfellows.

The room that struggled to contain their rapture was strung with the finest of woven cloth, etched in dust threatened designs, mauves, crimsons and gold-flecked emerald radial suns with beams grasping and expounding upon the sputtering lights as scaled beasts clawed and joined together in a harmonious declaration of eternal intention.

Birds with crowns of jeweled feathers flashed their carved adornments from upon the mantlepiece, flying betwixt the crawling vines and hand painted flowers that offered their alluring scent to the heavens from the base of the gnarled trees of crag ridden Mount Bur-Omisace. The monks within their boughs were trapped in sleep, not a hair nor hint of fur more disturbed by the raspy moan that was torn from Vayne’s throat than when they first laid themselves to rest, to meditate on the Gods, and to meditate upon nothing at all.

For Gabranth and Vayne, that outside world was but a hapless dream, doomed to be played for a puppet audience, a world for now escaped a new incarceration where they would be able to lick each other’s wounds and growl at disjointed shadows.

The two, one an heir of battleships and blood, the other his mother’s child and master of an avatar of Chaos, mingled with each other’s forms freely, hands groping to see across jawline, neck, clavicle and spine that all arched, undulating to the music that was strung out betwixt them.

They needed the continual embrace, hips twisting and heedless grinding….


End file.
